


Pokemon SwSh Leon One shot - My Champion

by TMWolf



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Anxiety, Brotherhood, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Comfort, Depression, Finding One's Worth, Hurt, Leon Needs A Hug, Love, Panic Attack, brother comforts brother, former champion, hop is a cinnamon bun, loss of worth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27214117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMWolf/pseuds/TMWolf
Summary: Leon returns home after his defeat at the hands of Gloria, but it's no sanctuary. His little brother Hop doesn't fail to notice.
Relationships: Dande | Leon & Hop
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Pokemon SwSh Leon One shot - My Champion

**Author's Note:**

> A fairly short one-shot for my Leon zine entry.

“Oh, Leon, sweetie, you don’t need to do the dishes.”

The purple-haired young man looked up at his mother, who gingerly took the dirty plate from his hand and scooched him out of the way from the sink to put it under the hot running water. He stared silently as she set it into the dishwasher and then took his hand in hers, squeezing. Her eyes were soft, staring into his own with a lingering sense of _something_. His mind couldn’t quite grasp it, though.

“You go rest up, alright? You must be exhausted after the week you’ve had. Go ahead and head up to your room—you know I keep it just like you had it.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mom,” he replied, voice almost a whisper. Her smile was soft, too, as she squeezed his hand once more and let go. His feet felt like lead as he dragged himself from the kitchen to the entryway. The stairs were there, but he abandoned them in favor of the living room. He couldn’t say why he did; his grandfather wasn’t there, nor his grandmother or Hop. They’d gone upstairs to prepare for bed, and so he was alone in the large room.

Everything was like he remembered. Two couches on either wall, an octagon rectangle in the center, and all over were decorations; a book shelf of books and medals and small pictures; a mantle of large and small trophies, a small TV in the nook, and on every wall a picture. Of him. His medals. His accomplishments. They were all there as they had been, from his first ever win on the shelf, to a more recent one on the wall by his last trophy. A uniform from a special exhibition tournament he’d also won. Yet more photos and even one of his father nestled in it all—the very same man who inspired him to become a great trainer and Champion.

None of it had changed. It was all exactly as he remembered when he came home a year ago, the first time in a long time. It had been a joyous time; a family BBQ and then giving his little brother and his friend their very first Pokémon to send them on their journey. He’d been filled with such joy that day, and there’d been only warmth and happiness.

Now here was again, and all he felt was empty.

The house was the same, but he could no longer look with pride.

The pictures no longer smiled with him, but stared in contempt. The trophies polish mocked him with his reflection, the vibrance replaced with dullness. His medals taunted him. His father mocked him—because they hadn’t changed.

 _He_ had.

Their condemnation was too much.

Leon turned, and nearly sprinted up the stairs to his room, shutting the door to lean against it. His eyes stung, but he bit back the sorrow as he ran a hand through his hair. He sniffed once before standing upright, straightening himself, and moving to the center.

As his mom said, it was the same as he’d left it when he’d turned sixteen and moved to Wyndon permanently for his work as Champion. His bed was settled in a corner beneath his window with the sheets tucked in, a display of caps he’d collected were set on two walls—he couldn’t even remember when or why he bought them—a bookshelf with all his own articles and books on Pokémon was situated opposite to his bed, and he kept his desk right by to compare notes and learn from every battle. His dresser was settled between and shoved between as many spaces as possible were boxes full of things, both old ones that his mother couldn’t toss, extras of articles about him and his accomplishment, or new things he’d brought him and left behind when he went to Wyndon.

It was his room.

And yet, it felt wrong to be there—his own _room_.

Leon cursed, grasping the back of his neck to lift his head, trying to ease his mind. The popcorn ceiling did little to help. He looked back down and found his mirror—the same one he’d pose in front of with his blanket cape and later his real one. He’d practiced his Charizard pose until it hurt; endless hours of trying to perfect it for the day he became Champ and showed it off. He’d used it to admire every new outfit he got or cape or uniform—the same one he wore now.

He hated it.

The sword and shield looked _wrong_. They weren’t bright and vibrant and a symbol of strength. They were broken and rusted and out of place. He didn’t deserve it. It didn’t belong on him—not anymore. It was too tight. He could feel the golden collar closing, the black material compressing on his chest. He couldn’t breathe. It was too hot. His tights were squeezing his legs.

Leon scrambled to get his uniform off, panting and cursing in his panic. He couldn’t get it off fast enough, tossing the clothing to the side until he was just in his briefs. He sucked in air greedily, but the weight on his chest remained. Again his eyes stung, but he bit it back as he rushed to his dresser and pulled out whatever her could get. Sweats, a shirt; it didn’t matter. Anything but the uniform—his shame.

“C’mon, ‘Lee… you’re better than this,” he rasped, voice shaky as he sat on his bed, hands grasping at his head. “What kind of pathetic idiot are you? Panicking? Because you lost? Because—.”

The words caught in his throat, and he cursed.

Because he _lost_.

Leon, the unbeatable champion. _Beaten_.

By a child. His _neighbor_. Hop’s best friend. The trainer _he’d_ sponsored.

It was poetic, in a way, and that made it worse.

Now, here he was; a pathetic mess of a human being. How wretched. He should have had more class—more honor at least, to not fall apart as soon as he was beyond the cameras and alone in his room. He’d hadn’t in front of an entire crowd that saw him lost—their pillar of strength, defeated—and even been sincerely proud of his opponent. Yet here, in the quiet; where nothing but his thoughts pervading his senses, the anguish flourished.

Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Despair. Uncertainty. Shame.

It was all there, tumbling and swirling around in a fierce torrent that threatened to tear him asunder. It left him hapless and helpless—more lost than he’d ever been. What was he even supposed to do now? Where was he supposed to go? Who was he supposed to be? Ten years of his life—all of who he was—gone. In a single match. He’d never considered in his arrogance, and now what was there for him? Nothing. He was _nothing_. Being Champion was all he’d been, so what was left for a man with no purpose? No reason? Was he just a tool? Had he just been some character for the crowd? A hero contrived by Rose and then used for his nefarious schemes, only to fail?

Was that why he’d lost? Why he wasn’t Champion? Because he couldn’t stop Eternatus?

Leon winced, instinctively touching at his side where a few ribs had been broken. He hadn’t told anyone beyond his mother about it—the injuries. He’d recovered enough for the match, and even after weeks the ache remained despite the break healed. He imagined it would last longer still.

Was this the price of his arrogance, then? Of believing he was truly indomitable and would forever serve as the people’s symbol? Was it so wrong to do so? To want the people to see him and know they could achieve their dreams? To want them to be strong and proud?

What of his dream now?

What could he do as no one? He was no longer Leon the Champion who could do anything. He was just _Leon_. No one.

 _Knock. Knock_.

“Lee?”

He jerked, head shooting up as he registered the voice.

It was Hop.

Leon wiped at his eyes despite there no tears and brushed himself off despite nothing there.

“Ah—y-yeah?” he called out, hating how his voice shook.

“…Can I come in?”

“Uh… yeah. Of course.”

The door creaked open, and there was his little brother. He looked taller than he remembered. Bigger, too. Or was he just holding his head higher? Or was it because he couldn’t be his hero anymore? Was that contempt in his eyes? Sadness? Hurt? Did his brother hate him for losing? For not being the one to win? For letting him down?

“Hey, you okay?” Hop asked, his voice lower now.

Leon grinned and nodded, “Of course. Just tired. It was a long flight here. I still have to go back, too—still got things to move out from my place in Wyndon.”

“Moving back home then?”

“Yep! Don’t have any other place right now, but Mom will be happy, and we can hang out like we used to now! I might even take up farming like we used to joke back in the day!” he laughed, scratching the back of his head. Hop didn’t reply, making his heart race. His little brother was staring, so he laughed again, “So what up, Hopscotch? Not too beat up over not being champ, are you? I know it was your dream and all.”

“I’m fine—it wasn’t meant to be, is all. But there’s always next year.”

“You’re right! So you better train hard. I’ll help you if you want. We can even start tomorrow!” he beamed.

His little brother smiled, “Sorry—I’m heading to the Weald to return the Shield we took—Zamazenta’s.”

“Oh, right. You and your friend need to return those, don’t you? Well, we can do that later then. I can focus on getting things unpacked. I still have to bring the boxes up from storage,” he chuckled, looking anywhere but his brother. “I should probably take a break from battling anyways. Only been at it for ten years, so I could use a break and—.”

“Are you okay?”

Leon blinked, “Uh… huh?”

“Are you _okay_?” Hop pressed, and he fidgeted.

“Yeah, I told you—I’m fine.”

“ _Lee_ ,” his brother spoke more firmly. Leon froze, slowly meeting his eyes which were so much like his own, yet so different. More confident. Stalwart. Hop spoke softer this time, “Are you _okay_?”

“I—I… Hop, I… of course I am, I just,” he started, the words fumbling like his fingers did on his pants. “Why wouldn’t I be fine? I am—I _was_ the Champion, but I’m still _me_ , you know? I’m still your big brother who can’t lose Or, well, okay I lost once so I guess I _can_ lose, but I’ll still always protect you and have your back so don’t worry about me. I know I let you down when I lost, but I’m okay and I’ll—.”

“Lee, you didn’t let me down.”

Leon froze again, hands shaking. He couldn’t look up—even as Hop’s legs came into his line of sight. Then his brother’s arms were around him, his forehead pressed into his smaller chest. He squeezed him tight in a hug that made his eyes water.

“You’re still _my_ Champion, ‘Lee. My hero. That’s never going to change, and I’ll always be so proud to call you my big brother.”

He choked on a sob as the tears flowed and he clung to his little brother’s shirt, burying his face into the black material. His body shook and shuddered as he cried and cried, everything pouring out in the endless fresh tears. He couldn’t hold it back any longer, and Hop let him spill it out. He hated to think how little his brother might think of him now, but then told himself better.

Hop had said so—he was still a Champion. _His_ Champion. He still mattered. He was still _somebody_ , even just a big brother.

“Sorry—you shouldn’t have to see that. I should be the one hugging _you_ ,” he croaked, wiping the last of the tears from his eyes as he sniffed. Hop sat down beside him, arm wrapped around his shoulders now.

“Hey, well, I owe you for all the years you helped _me_. Besides, I get it. Losing sucks,” he laughed, and Leon laughed with him. Hop snickered after a moment and nudged him. “Don’t worry, ‘Lee. You’ll figure things out. You always do—even before you became Champ. Mom and Sonia always tell me all the stories.”

His cheeks warmed, “Oh, geez, please tell me they didn’t.”

“They did. So trust me when I say you got this! You don’t have to be a Champ to make your dreams come true, y’know! If everyone else in Galar can make theirs happen, so can you!”

“Huh,” he mused, rubbing again at his reddened eyes, “Yeah, I guess that’s true. I don’t even know _what_ to do about it, though. But… I guess I have time to figure it out, huh?”

“Yep! I believe in you, ‘Lee, so any time you have trouble doing it yourself, just come find me, okay? We’re family. But more importantly, we’re brothers. So we gotta look out for each other, alright? Pinky promise?” Hop asked, holding out his hand, fingers curled except the pinky. Leon stared for a moment before laughing and wrapped his own little fingers around his brother’s.

“Yeah, you got it. It’s a promise. Feel free to give me a smack over the head like Mom does if I’m being dumb again, alright?”

His brother winked, “You got it, bro!”

“So…,” Leon hummed, glancing around, “wanna help me unpack?”

“You bet’chya! I just hope you have enough room for all your other hats!” he laughed, hopping up. He laughed with him, watching as his younger brother scampered over the nearest box and got to work. After a moment, he closed his eyes, breathed in deep, and opened them again.

He wasn’t Champion anymore.

But he was somebody, and he had a dream out there waiting for him to fulfil. Maybe not today or tomorrow or even a week from now, but he’d find it and achieve it.

Because he wasn’t the Champion.

He was Leon. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, j a little something a wrote for the Leon Zine entry! I just couldn't resist a little focus on the brothers. I would have gone more in-depth but I had a word limit! Hope y'all enjoyed :))


End file.
